The first period started 20 minutes ago but I can’t hear anything the teacher is saying because I have my full attention on Ella. Her eyes are shrunken. Two empty holes.  There are awful-looking dark circles where there should be plumpness of youth, as if she hasn’t slept for days. She’s looking frail and shriveled as if vitality is slowly being sucked from her body. I’ve been watching Ella for a while. The cheerful, carefree, bright-eyed girl who joined my class 6 months ago has been replaced with an aloof and a brooding shadow of herself. All the girls that used to hang with her now keep their distance. This further confirms my stance that people are an unstable lot. When everything is all rainbows and sunshine, they flock around you like vultures around a carcass. But when things turn sour, these same people evaporate like morning dew after the sun comes out. In the middle of the lesson, Ella stands up abruptly and leaves the class. I glance at the teacher, wondering why she isn’t stopping Ella. But it’s as if no one noticed, except me.  Ella strides out of the classroom like there is somewhere she needs to be. It is almost as if the old Ella is back. That piques my curiosity. Where is she going to? I go to the teacher to ask for permission to use the restroom. But she seems not to notice that I am standing in front of her. I scan the classroom and everyone is carrying on as usual. I store the weird incident at the back of my mind, I’ll ponder it later. But now, I need to know where Ella is headed. I follow her stealthily until we get to the roof of our school building which is 6 stories high. I watch Ella as she shuffles towards the ledge. Then it dawns on me what she is about to do.                                         “Ella?” I keep my voice even because I am afraid I might startle her if I speak too loud. She is standing too close to the edge. I move closer, a step at a time.                                                                                                                    “Ella, you shouldn’t be going so close to the edge.” I keep inching closer to her. But Ella leans out and starts falling. Without thinking, I run towards her and try to grab her. I don’t understand what happens next because the exact moment I try to take hold of Ella I feel somebody grab me and pull me away from the edge of the building.                                                        “What do you think you are doing?” It is the Janitor.                                                                                        “Ella, she jumped and I was trying to save her.”                                                                                                “You were trying to save who? There is nobody else here young woman. Thank God I came around when I did. I don’t know what the story would be by now. Follow me to the principal.” He holds my hand and leads me to the principal. He keeps shaking his head and muttering unintelligible things under his breath. “Jessy, are you sure about this Ella?” The principal asks for the umpteenth time as he checks and rechecks the school record. He can’t find anybody named Ella. Even the names of some of Ella’s friends that I mentioned are not in the register.  I try to speak but I can’t seem to find my voice. Nothing makes sense anymore. So I tell the principal that I need to go to the restroom.  When I get there, I splash some water on my face. But when I lift my head I see Ella’s face staring back at me from the restroom mirror. I cover my mouth to stifle the scream in my throat. I back away from the mirror, looking around but Ella isn’t there anymore. I don’t know what is happening anymore. I don’t know if it’s all been in my head, if I am going crazy. I scramble out of the school building and start to run home as fast as my legs can take me. On my way home, I see a crowd gathered just ahead. I try to cross to the other side of the road and continue on my way but I feel drawn to the crowd, like I’m supposed to be there.. I ask someone what is going on and he points up. I look up and I see a girl standing at the edge of the 6 story building, like she’s about to jump. This scene looks familiar. “Do you live here sir?” I ask one of the shirtless men standing around. I am wondering why nobody is up there trying to save her. He nods. “Show me how to get up there, please.” “What?” He says, looking at me like I am crazy. The man is reluctant to take me to her so I lie that the girl is my sister. I act distressed to make my lie a little convincing. Finally, he takes me to up. “Hello?” I say to the girl. “Don’t waste your time trying to stop me. Just go away.” She replies. “I’m not trying to stop you.” I say. That gets her attention because she turns to look at me. But she loses her balance in the process. Panicked, I rush to her and grab her. I need help to get her away from the edge but the man who brought me is standing there, staring like an electrocuted cat. “I need a hand here!”  I yell at him. He runs to my aid and together we pull the girl away from the danger spot.   In American movies, someone would have called 911. But this is Nigeria, this girl would have jumped and the only thing people would have done is take pictures and videos. And before you know it, social media would be flooded with news of a young girl who jumped from a building and committed suicide. “What is your name?” I ask. “June,” the girl whispers. “How old are you,